I'm No Superman, Part 1

The following events and dialogue transpired in the early morning of Tuesday, February 13, 2007. Because of the looming ice storm, the regularly scheduled employees of INOVA Fair Oaks Hospital were unable to make it in. In their place, the cast of TV’s Scrubs.

JD: You know, the most amazing thing about working in a hospital is that a new patient can walk in that door at any moment. It could be right before you’re ready to go home, or sit down to lunch in the cafeteria, but sometimes, on the dullest of graveyard shifts, the miracle of –
Turk: Dude, who are you typing to?
JD: Oh, these good Internet people, Brown Bear.
Turk: Oh, and by the way, that inner monologue thing you always do at the beginning and end of commercial breaks? Yeah, we can hear that.
JD: Really?
Turk: Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go see if Carla will take my ER to her mother. I want to have her replace the pockets on them with actual Hot Pockets.
JD: Later, man. As I was saying, it’s the graveyard shift that brings in the real fun people. Or at least the tall ones.
Carla: Hey Bambi – you really should get a move on and stop staring at the ceiling with your silly little monologues. We just got Katie Condon checked in to Room LDR1, and her husband is with her. They seem sleepy.
JD: Yes, it is true – they were indeed sleepy. Katie had been up for two nights laboring, and despite her husband’s extra-terrestrial ability to sleep anytime and anywhere, he had been recording contractions (with limited coherence and amplified hilarity). This is why I left them, Carla – in their room to sleep. Katie was resting peacefully in her bed and Chris – well – that’s a different story.
Dr. Cox: Newbie!
JD: (yes, my right-hand man, Dr. Cox has come again to congratulate my swift action) What is it, good sir Doctor Cox?
Cox: Oh nothing, newbie. It’s just that I see the patient’s husband didn’t quite figure out that that chair he’s in folds out into three sections and thusly, one long bed. There’s probably a good reason for this, perhaps his immediate need to remain peaceful and non-confrontational or hell, I don’t know, maybe he likes pretzels so much that he has opted to sleep like one. What I know, newbie, is like pretzels, all this explaining is making me thirsty when really in the first place all I had to say is that I blame you for negligence of demonstrating how the fold-out works and I’ll be gladly recommending you paycheck as a funding source for when he sues this God-forsaken place when he can’t play shortstop this spring for alumni softball. Yeah.
JD: (Ok, so maybe congratulations aren’t order. Did he say something about free pretzels?)

(six hours later)
Janitor: Hey Dorian.
JD: What do you want?
Janitor: Blond Doctor was looking for you. Wanted to tell you something important. She told me what it was in case that I saw you today, and here I am right in front of you, so don’t you have something to ask me?
JD: Um. Can you tell me the important news from Elliott?
Janitor: I’m sorry. That’ll cost you.
JD: That’s extortion! You may be holding vital medical information concerning my patient! Ok. Fine. How much do you want?
Janitor: Enough to buy a pretzel from the vending machine. I heard there were free ones earlier, but somebody didn’t save one for me.
JD: Fine, here, you bloodsucking janitor. Now what’s so important?
Janitor: (chewing) Oh, right. Um, your patient spent the morning relaxing in her room and taking it easy, thanks to our good friend The Epidural. Nothing new to report. Delivery still on schedule for this afternoon. Well, in hindsight, maybe she didn't say "Important" and instead said "Uninteresting."
JD: I’ve been swindled.

(Part II later)

The Great Bib of Prophecy

(Yeah, we have some hospital material to get to – and we will – but this one was too hard to postpone. Enjoy.)

For Christmas, (the newly engaged) Spud and Julie got Baby Clara a small gift. (For an unofficial Baby’s First Christmas, it should be noted that she had quite the yuletide haul.) Simple, yet stunningly hilarious, the gift was a baby bib. In plain, non-descript, black letters, the plain white bib read:

“Hi. I’m Super Baby. This is my cape. Mom just put it on backwards.”

But do the clothes really make the man? Or in this case, does the layette make the newborn?

Our kid could have a guest spot on Heroes.

Last night during a 3:30 AM feeding (which are in fact rarer than one would expect), Clara was up and hungry. Mom sat at attention up in bed with young baby in arms, while Dad stumbled around the room getting various needs (cloth, pillows) with all the grace of Peter King at a press corps buffet table. Now there was a little light in the room, thanks to what lies directly outside our bedroom window. Even prior to dawn’s early light, Fairfax Corner is alive with the post-close patio lighting of the restaurants, parking lot lamps, Christmas lights on the trees, and the soft glow surrounding the movie theatre. It’s city living, but without the pretzel carts and taxation without representation.

Sure, it was light enough to find my way around the bed, serving as the operation’s runner. Katie seemed okay with the minimal incandescence, and Clara was enjoying some late-night chow, so she had no problem. That is, until she had a little too much.

Babies don’t exactly have the lengthiest digestive track in the world, and to borrow a page from Micro-economics, one cannot allow supply to outpace demand. If supply does outpace demand, the market may decide to return some goods to the warehouse. And since the warehouse is closed, that can only mean one thing.

Spit-up City.
Normal babies spit up, and there’s minor consequence. Some baby clothes get wet. Maybe someone develops the hiccups. You might use one more burp cloth than you had allocated. But remember what I said earlier – my baby isn’t normal.

3:39:42 – Clara Grace spits up.
3:39:45 – The entire power grid of Fairfax Corner goes dark.

That’s right. Our child can sneeze, and make Thomas Edison cry.

It’s a pretty eerie thing to stare out over a landscape usually so littered by bright lights. It was complete darkness around Coastal Flats, leaving a poor delivery man to read his clipboard by the dashboard light. Rio Grande and PF Changs were reduced to giants monoliths of blacked out regional cuisine. The traffic light stood colorless, and the occasional vehicle proceeded with caution. Oh and inside our apartment? Baby continued to feed, Mom continued to remain calm, and Dad continued to trip over everything in sight and try and find solace in a candle and the awesome Headlamp that I was given as an Christmas gift years back.

And for those fifteen minutes of blackness, I sat wondering (and nursing my slammed ankle) just what else the most photographed human on the planet is capable of. And whether or not I should try and send her pictures in to J. Jonah Jameson at the Daily Bugle.

The Post She Was Born to Read

In the information age of the Interwebs, one has to leave their legacy by imprinting their mark somewhere on the Information Super Highway. After all, when school children of the future need to look back and learn just how awesome Chris Condon was, they’re not going to dust off some old book in some even older library – they’ll Google me. Thanks to YAB, I’ve managed to let futurekids know a fair bit about what it’s like to be a left-handed superblogger with a penchant for Mighty Ducks quotes. But even if YAB never came to be, I do show up numerous times in these indoor track results from 1997. Hey futurekids, I was fast, too.

But what of Clara Grace Condon?

I guess her weblegacy starts…now.

It’s been a week since new text has graced the calming hues of You’re a Blog, and one person can be held responsible. The creative outlet that is blog cannot be stopped by bosses, by co-workers, by friends, or by foes. But there appears to be one person that can make time (backdated or otherwise) stand still.

Now they say that a picture is worth a 1,000 words, I could catch up this backdating in no time flat. (It should be noted though, by not dating this post properly – Clara serves to be our miraculous little tax break.) Over the past week, I believe the girl has been photographed about 11,132 times over the course of her first year of life – maybe making her the best-documented human being of all-time.

And she didn’t even have to shave her head for this attention.

Now, this may seems incredibly weird for the readership – after all, in the 632 career posts of YAB, there has never, ever, ever, been a picture laced in with the funny. Sure, we’ve linked to some funny photos – but never down the main line like this little girl. And this is pretty amazing, considering photography is hilarious. It was never the intent of YAB to outlaw photos on the blog, it just kind of happened that way. And now, we enter the visual world with a picture of someone I’m responsible for. A person I will find adorable, even if she’s doing non-adorable things like operating construction equipment or reading astrophysics. (Eh, who am I kidding – a baby working a jackhammer IS adorable.) A person, who if she plays her cards right, just may get to be a lefty like dear old Dad.

There was no photo in YAB’s maiden post on July 27, 2004. But then again, there wasn’t a graduate school, a marriage, a new apartment, or a Boston Red Sox World Series champion. But hey, that’s why YAB is here – to chronicling the funny. YAB is my legacy on the Interwebs.

And Clara Grace Condon, born 8lbs. 12oz. on February 13, 2007, is my legacy in real life.

Much, much more to follow.

Daybreak (obs.)

Ok, so I guess she’s not a fan of Zhang Ziyi.

And you can blame my daughter, really? I mean sharing a birthday with China’s most popular actress in Hollywood really wouldn’t be that much of an honor, would it? Yes, she has put forth a few solid efforts – namely Memoirs of a Geisha and Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. But there was House of Flying Daggers, which while beautiful, was vastly overrated. And after one, JUST ONE, major crossover hit (CTHD) – she signs on to do an American flick – and she chose RUSH HOUR 2? I mean come on! I think Chris Tucker has taken a vow of silence after that flick out of shame – and for those who know Chris Tucker – a vow of silence would be damn near impossible.

And from viewing Ms. Zhang’s IMDB profile, we learn that the Beijing beauty has served as an ad spokesperson for Tag Heuer, Maybelline, Pantene, some Korean mineral water, Coca-Cola, and Lenovo Computers. Damn, that’s a tad materialistic – not exactly a value I want instill in our little girl. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s important to double fist soda and water while working on your laptop and knowing the time, and seeing you reflection in your monitor only to reveal a nice foundation and hair with bounce. However, my kid’s got to concentrate on the quantity and hue of various fish, first.

We see that Ziyi’s next project is providing a voice for this summer’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles flick as well. While I don’t necessarily think that we need another Turtle Power movie, I would like to see this movie spliced into Adult Swim’s spring offering, to reveal the real movie we’ve all been waiting for: Aqua Teenage Mutant Ninja Hunger Turtle Force: Back to the Minors.

Zhang Ziyi could be a Mooninite.

So long story, well, long, Clara Grace has decided to wait and not be compared with Zhang Ziyi for the rest of her life, and wait for a better birthday to come along. We profile the next two days in a second edition of Daybreak, here.

TODAY – FEBRUARY 12th!

Important Events: Two days before Valentine’s Day – let’s see what slackers were creating history rather than running out to Hallmark to get the Mrs. some candy. New York City saw Rhapsody in Blue premiere in 1924, and the first artificial ice rink open at Madison Square Garden in 1879. In 1832, Ecuador annexed the Galapagos Islands. The inhabitants wanted to fight for their freedom, but damn it, were to slow to get to the battle.

Famous Birthdays: Abraham Lincoln, Franco Zeffirelli, Judy Blume, Arsenio Hall, Owen Nolan, and Michael Ironside – ah, Jester from Top Gun. Why doesn’t IMDB recognize him today? Oh. Jester’s dead.

Holidays: Yes, the 13th is actually Lincoln’s birthday. Which means if Clara was to come today, we would observe her birthday on an arbitrary Monday to co-celebrate the birthday of some other non-related neighborhood kid.

TOMORROW – FEBRUARY 13th!

Important Events: In 1955, Israel obtained 4 of the 7 Dead Sea Scrolls. However, what they really needed was a scoring winger and a stay-at-home defenseman to strengthen the blue line. In 1880, Thomas Edision “observes the Edison Effect.” In other non-shocking news, Lou Gehrig died of Lou Gehrig’s disease. Coincidences?

Famous Birthdays: Duke Coach Mike Krzyzewski – at least his parents were merciful. They could have named him something like Vladimir or Bourdleaux or Zelimkhan – just to see him cry trying to write his name on the first day of Kindergarten.

Holidays: The 13th is the Feast of Saint Fulcran, showing that the Catholic Church is a strong supporter of Science and the support on which a lever turns in raising or moving something.

I never paid much attention in Physics.

Why No One Can Find Carmen Sandiego

A little ways back we talked about the function my computer does or does not perform when I’m somewhere other than my desk. The Out of Office Assistant is here to let you people on the internets where I am when it is here I am not.

However, that doesn’t quite work for your co-workers.

There are two methods to informing the proximal masses of your whereabouts. The first, of course, is to tell somebody where you’re going and when you’ll be back. But this often feels like you’re asking permission, and therefore a little awkward. And what happens if that person steps out of the office? Now you’re fugitive from cubicle law. They’ll send the dogs after you – the ones with sharp pointy staple removers for teeth. Yowch.

Most times you leave your office, it’s probably for incredibly mundane purposes. Maybe you’ve got to make a sales call to the office across the street. Or you might be grabbing lunch at Flinger’s. Or it might even be that you have figured out that after a treacherous 1 inch of snow that everyone insists on getting their cars re-washed, and the only time to avoid waiting in line is mid-morning, when you and the rest of the world should be at work. Whatever the reason, you’re not there, and it’s not because you’re about to set the world on fire on account of a heroic deed.

So why not leave a sign?

Yes, the second way of letting thy co-worker know where you be is to post a sign. You can tell a lot about a colleague based on their out-of-office signs, and we feel it is our civic duty to translate some of their nuances. After all, if you stare at somebody’s sign so close that you can read between the lines, someone’s going to notice, and you’re going to look like a stalker. Let YAB do the stalking for you.

That didn’t come out right.

First, you have your Pre-Fab crowd. Overly-organized administrative assistants and those who have too much access to the color laser printer, this crew actually have a folder with a sign for any occasion. When they are out to lunch, they put up the out to lunch sign. When they are elsewhere in the building for a meeting, they’ve got one for that, too. And God forbid they have access to a laminate machine – they might be selling these things on the black market, they’re so professional. What’s wrong with their method? The time. Unless they have a sign printed and laminated for every location they may be and every possible return time, their lives are incomplete. Pointing this out may cause tears and a run on printer paper. Beware.

Then you have the Minimalists. Their whereabouts are limited to a hastily-scrawled post-it note, that may or may not still be stuck to their door. It’s often in pencil or whatever utensil they could get their hands on – running late will do that to a minimalist. I think one time I saw a guy try and let us know he was going out to Reston using a glue stick. Highly ineffective. What’s wrong with this method? While it may give you he essential information, relying on the adhesive of a Post-It note may mean that by the end of the day, your note may end up as well-traveled (via a shoe bottom) as you were. What’s right about this method? It drives the Pre-Fabs absolutely insane.

There's also the Obvious Brigade. These guys take a little more time to print out a one-sheeter out of Microsoft Word, but why they went to such lengths baffles all passers-by. After all, all they’ve written in their Size 32 Times New Roman Bold note is “Not Here” and “Back Later.” Yeah, that was totally worth the effort, fellas. What’s wrong with this method? Blank space. If that’s all you intend to scribe for your colleagues, why not tell us some other things that you’re not. What about “Not Asleep” or perhaps “Not robbing a bank.” Both are true statements, and if the cops come looking for a narcoleptic who just held up the First Federal on the corner, your co-workers can vouch for an alibi.

What would I do if I ever put up one of these signs? Well, I’d put the time I’d be returning, that’s for sure. After all, it’s really the only important piece of information on one of these notices. But as to my whereabouts? Is that really relevant? What does it matter if I’m running to the doctors’ office or on a sales call in Ballston? It doesn’t really benefit anyone to know what I’m doing – just when I’ll be back. Therefore, I would completely make something up that would both 1) make me seem cooler than I am and 2) offer as little relevance as the actual explanation. Hang on, I have to run to the restroom, I’ll be right back.

ENGAGED IN HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT WITH BEARS
BE BACK IN 5 MINUTES

Daybreak

Several people here are work have stopped in my office over the course of this week to ponder, “Hey, is the baby here yet?” Wow, good question there. I’m going to respond to you with a simple, “Nope, not yet,” in order to inform you that no, in fact, my wife has not given birth yet. But in reality, and while I may keep this to myself through the duration of our little conversation here, I would really prefer to respond with, “Oh, the baby? Yes, she’s here. Doing fine. Born an hour ago. And yet, here I am sitting at my desk, finishing this mundane spreadsheet and getting a chuckle over this FoxTrot comic someone just e-mailed me. No, stupid. Of course she’s not here.”

Okay. Went back and read that just now. Appears I’m channeling Scrubs’ Dr. Cox with the opening to day. Sit back and enjoy the ride, newbie.

In a matter of hours/days, our little girl will decide which of all the days in the Gregorian calendar will be the most important day of her little year – her birthday. Days surrounding one’s actual birthday pale in comparison; for it is a day that the world has attributed to your continued existence that makes it so special. I’ve got a good birthday – it’s September 30th. How strong does that sound? Yeah – good month, good day. Hey, I share a day with Johnny Mathis, Martina Hingis, and Sara Throckmortion.

There are some days in the calendar that one would preferably opt not to be born on. Take December 25th – nobody likes a “combo” gift. And even if you become incredibly famous, no blogger with that birthday is going to mention sharing a birthday with you over, say, Jesus. And what of February 2nd? We’ve dedicated that one to a groundhog. “What’s that? Today’s your birthday? Man, that’s a shame. I saw on the news that the groundhog saw his shadow, which only means that we’re all going to die.”

I’ve never quite gotten the grasp of that holiday.

So what of the today and the few that follow? What shared feats of awesomeness could possibly greet the future birthday of Clara Grace? Oh, Wiki Gods, let us know.

TODAY – FEBRUARY 8th!
Important Events: Ok, let’s see here. In 1693, William and Mary was granted its official charter from England – that would be cool, considering Katie and I met there. A year prior in 1692, a doctor in Salem, Mass declared three girls are witches – that might come in handy the first time she breaks curfew. And the first female Olympic ice hockey game took place on this day in 1998 – maybe we’ll have a little Cammi Granato on our hands.

Famous Birthdays: Dave Kull, General Tecumseh Sherman, Jack Lemmon, Ted Koppel, John Grisham, Seth Green, and the Mongolian politician Demchugdongrub, which might accidentally be the baby’s first word.

Holidays: The 8th is Preseren Day, a cultural holiday in Slovenia. Um, what?

TOMORROW – FEBRUARY 9th!
Important Events: Note: This is Clara’s actual due date, so let’s see what magic falls on Friday. In 474, Zeno was crowned the co-emperor of the Byzantine Empire. Strangely enough, he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up, but space travel wouldn’t be invented for another 1500 years. In 1942, it was the first ever use of Daylight Saving Time – I can never remember, would that give sleep-deprived parents of newborns one extra or one less hour of sleep?

Famous Birthdays: William Henry Harrison, Joe Pesci, Amber Valletta, Zhang Ziyi, Mookie Wilson, John Kruk, and Vladimir Guerrero – so, baseball anyone?

Holidays: Tomorrow, I’d like to wish one and all a very happy and blessed Saint Maroon’s Day. Hey, at least it’s better than Groundhog Day.

(If neither of these days end up being THE day, a Weekend Edition of Daybreaker will run. Stay tuned.)

Throwing the Heater

There’s a senior-year tradition, apparently, at my high school called Senior Cut Day. It is supposed to occur when the number of days remaining in the school year matches your graduation year. For me, that means 98 days from graduation, I wasn’t supposed to be in school. I was supposed to be out doing completely non-academic things, like going to the beach, catching a flick, and playing table games at the Max. Wait, I didn’t go to Bayside High. I forgot.

I went to Shawnee, and as my good friends Joe, Dave, and Tim can tell you, on Senior Cut Day you go to WING BOWL. Why can’t I tell you for myself? You must have forgotten. I was a huge dork in high school. I was in class.

The idea of Wing Bowl was invented my Philly’s sports-talk station, 610 WIP some 15 years ago. Since the Eagles never had plans to oh, play football Super Bowl Weekend, the Philly faithful decided it would be a good time to stage another Bowl game, this one involving the competitive eating of mass quantities of single-serving poultry. Wing Bowl was born. And while I’ve never been, I know that it has evolved from a tiny Wing-Off in some lobby of some hotel to a Wachovia Center packed house consumption spectacle.

According to my records, my buddies 3 witnessed the triumph of the 1998 champion, Mark “Big Rig” Vogeding, who polished off 164.wings en route to the victory. Who’s hungry?

(It also should be noted for posterity that the same three hit the beach later our senior year, rather than attending class. This trip was notable for the fact that Tim almost got arrested for getting an extra refill at the Promenade on the O.C. Boardwalk, and Dave missed the playing of Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World” over the morning loudspeaker, much to our dismay. Ok, we now return you to the point we’re eventually going to make theater.)

This year’s Wing Bowl, which for a few years has included professional eaters like that tiny Korean woman who lives in Alexandria, was held this past Friday. Now it is true that the finest Philadelphia regional celebrities have been known to make an appearance, including Pat Croce, the NBC10 news team, and Governor Ed Rendell. But now, it appears that all the stars can just step aside – because we had a supernova attend WB15. Who, you ask?

Mitch “The Wild Thing” Williams.

I’ve been a fan of Philly sports since 1986, and Williams is EASILY the biggest goat of that era for us in the City of Brotherly Love. (Rounding out the podium? Terrell Owens and Eric Lindros) He gave up the gopher ball home run pitch to lose the 1993 World Series to – yes, Canada – the Toronto Blue Jays. And even when the game or world championship was on the line, his erratic, stroke-inducing pitching style probably killed about 40 people during his tenure in Red Pinstripes.

He now manages a bowling alley in South Jersey.

And despite all the criticism and hatred that Philly might have for him, Williams proudly attended Wing Bowl 15. After all, he’s more the Wing Bowl type than current clean-cutters Pat Burrell and Jamie Moyer, right?

Yet, things didn’t turn out so well for Wild Thing. From Philly.com:

Waiting on a friend, he pulled his '06 Chrysler 300 into a parking spot. Soon, "I smelled something kind of burning in my car," Williams says. "I got out, finally, and saw smoke. I was trying to get the hood open, and I couldn't get it open, and I looked underneath." Someone had left a barbecue grill smoldering in the lot, and it ignited the car's engine.

Rumor has it Joe Carter was also in attendance, and he LOVES barbeque chicken.

Peyton Manning Would Be a Horrible GPS System

In my 18 years of formal education, I’ve had to do a lot of projects. Some have been in groups, while others have forced me to go out on my own. There have been a few that have required some creativity, while others a built-up penchant for boredom-inducing research. And of all the projects I’ve ever done in the name of academia, only one can be the Best. Project. Ever.

And it was the one that made me a fan of the Super Bowl Champion Indianapolis Colts.

In 5th grade, my teacher was named Mrs. Hammer. Doesn’t exactly give you the feeling that she’s going to be all about smiley-face stickers and candy for right answers, right? After all she shares the name with a tool design to create blunt-force trauma. She was a good teacher, and her legacy is only heightened considering I had her as a teacher during the heyday of M.C. Hammer.

In the first month of 5th grade, we as a class were informed that we would be participating in a new half-year-long project known as Pigskin Geography. Looking around on the internets, it appears that this was not a unique idea of the Hammer. The premise was simple. Every student is assigned a team. The student is to follow the season of their team. The student will learn about the city the team plays its home games. The student will learn about calculating statistics, as well as distances between games. You also had to keep a scrapbook, meaning you had to figure out how to read the newspaper (preferably taking your scissors to it AFTER mom and dad had finished.) Oh, and you were encouraged to watch football.

Team selection was the first, and perhaps, most important part of the entire project. First off, no one could have the Eagles – that was in effect, “cheating.” (Plus it probably eliminated initial arguments – that’s how the Hammer rolls.) So our names were picked out of a hat, and we picked what was left on the board (at the time 28 teams) I feel like I picked like 5th.

Now keep in mind, I’m an extremely weird kid when it came to school. In third grade we got to write a report about any United States President (other than Reagan, who was in office) we wanted. 3rd graders don’t have opinions about who the favorite President is. Therefore, they pick the one they’ve heard of. 10 kids probably did JFK. Another 10 probably did Lincoln. Washington, Jefferson, and Roosevelt – I’m sure they had a few.

Chris Condon chose William McKinley.

So when it came to my turn to pick a football team, one should expect the unexpected. The only team I ever liked was the Eagles, and they were off the board. Nowadays, I could probably give you a 1-32 list, from Philly to Dallas. But back then? It was Philly, and then everybody else.

Now this selection happened during the pre-season of the 1990 NFL season. The weekend prior, the Eagles had had a game against the blue and white of the Indianapolis Colts, and lost 17-16. My opinion of the Colts, then, was that if they were good enough to beat the Eagles, then they must be a good team. Looking back, here are something’s that shed light on a faulty rationale.

1. When I was 10, I had no idea that pre-season games are meaningless.
2. The Eagles coming off Year 4 of the Buddy Ryan Experiment, an experiment that failed to produce a play-off win.
3. The Colts were about to start a rookie QB named Jeff George, who may have been a previous incarnation of Rex Grossman.

I got an A in Pigskin Geography. Really, I totally rocked it. My calculations of running yards per game and points allowed were flawless, my newspaper scrapbook was topical and insightful, and I know lots of things about the Hoosier State that, well, haven’t been that helpful in my professional career.

The 1990 Colts? They went 7-9.

But from the one magi-, no, mediocre season, I became a Colts fan. I was 10.

Now I’m 27. But other than the hometown influence of the Eagles, the Colts have always been my Number 2 Team. I stuck with them, and before I could even spell “allegiance.” The very next year? They lost 15 out of 16 games. And I still wore a blue horseshoe cap proudly. I mean, that requires a lot of dedication out of a kid.

I’m not exactly a William McKinley backer these days.

Commercial Success III

2.6 million dollars

Yep, it seems each year it costs another 100k for a company to air their absolute best marketing during the Super Bowl. It seems we didn't make a big deal in the media as we have in the past about the actual cost, but instead spent the week approaching the Big Game talking about commercials that were leaked by their respective companies early.

Bad move. Bad, bad move.

The big news all last week surrounded the Nationwide ad featuring Kevin Federline. Nationwide has done a decent job in the past, including a Number 9 spot on our 2005 list with M.C. Hammer. And this spot absolutely had potential. Good shock value, excellent delivery, and it fits their campaign nicely. However, by letting the world see it three days early killed the shock value. Killed it. It detracted from its ability on the biggest stage, and I'm leaving it off my Top Ten as a result. Hell, Federline actually did something right.

I feel like every morning-after the Super Bowl, the media also decides to declare this year's group of ads to be the Weakest Ever. Maybe we just like superlatives too much - people, it wasn't that bad. Looking at my list from 2005 and 2006, the list I have below is by far the strongest we've had in three years. I don't know what you were all watching. Maybe Phil Simms' awful announcing (a post I may get to later this week) dulled everyone into submission. I laughed at these ads. I lot.

That said here are the Third Annual Awards for the Super Bowl Commercial Offering, or for short, the Commies. (Any resemblance to a fallen economic and political system is unintentional and completely coincidental.)

Top 10 Commies, 2007

1. Doritos - "SpicyCheesyCrunchyBoldSmooth" - This was the best. It wasted little time getting to the punchline (cheesy), and then tacked on two more for good measure. It totally redeems Doritos in my eyes. Until now, they've been known for that spot in the late 90'swith Ali Landry in a laundromat. Maybe we can remember this one as their benchmark. As you might sense, impact humor was kind of a theme this year. (But the woman falling forward into the car door? Awesome.)
2. General Motors - "Suicidal Robot" - Very often, giving human qualities to non-human entities is marketing gold during the Super Bowl. Bud had perfected this with animals, and now GM has done it with machinery. Jasen almost choked on his chili during this one - always a sign of greatness. Way better from GM than their Chevy musical medley of semi-famous people.
3. FedEx - "Names" - Probably one of the few commercials that you had to pay close attention to in order to hear the humor. A group of co-workers are in a conference room, and one guy questions the speed of the slow-sounding FedEx Ground. We then meet his colleagues Harry, Eileen, Joy, and Bob. Shame they couldn't work a character in named Mr. Punchinface. That would have been funny.
4. Career Builder.com - "Promotion Pit" - The second of a very solid trilogy of Career Builder Jungle ads. This one has all of workers in a gladiator-style pit, armed and protected by miscellaneous office equipment. An honorable mention to the one with everybody running - kicked off the campaign nicely. And since they pink-slipped the monkeys this year, the sole primate representation was left to a weak Bud Light ad. But here's the thing with the monkeys - no monkey ad can ever top the 2 mil E-Trade as from '99. So I think we should move on.
5. Bud Light - "Slap You Very Much" - Always the biggest player in the game, Bud will only get two spots on this year's list. It's not because they struggled, I just feel the competition got stronger. (In fact, I have their Hitchhiker-con-Axe and Carlos Mencia spots in the top 14) This one came down to quick editing, and could have used a bigger closing joke to get it higher up the list.
6. Blockbuster - "The Mouse" - Way to bring back and old campaign and put in a new twist. Now Harford has been shliling for Blockbuster over at his blog, and pairing that justification with a funny animated ad featuring rodent cruelty, maybe I'll think about renting there again soon. (Nah - who am I kidding? I'm in the Netflix camp. Hoo-rah.)
7. Bud Light - "Rock Paper Scissors" - Classic Bud, but I saw and LOVED this gag last years during Nextel's Crime-Deterrent ad. So I'll take this opportunity to call out the lost dog Clydesdale ad. It tried to be funny at the end - and this is precisely what it shouldn't do. I want you to open your mouth and sigh, "Awwww." Ok, now while doing that, try and laugh. Hurts, don't it? This is what they tried to make you do. Bad Budweiser.
8. Emerald Nuts - "Robert Goulet" - Weird. And I loved it. Way better than their acronym campaign of the last few years.
9. NFL - "Hard to Say Goodbye" - Reasons I liked this ad: 1) It did not show a single dejected Eagles fan - we're happy with how our season ultimately ended up. 2) It showed a stupid Cowboys fan - who paints a horse, honestly? 3) The Brett Favre closer. WOW.
10. Late Show with David Letterman - "Dave and Oprah" - Jasen actually did choke on his chili for this one. Clever, sharp, and the best in-house commercial on a night where CBS pushed every possible show it airs down your throat. Really, really, excellent.
11. Joseph Stalin

The YABABY Guide

When you are expecting a child for the first time, the best way childless friends know how to help you on your new adventure is by providing baby-raising advice is to give you books. That makes sense to me. Since they cannot speak yet from experience, they consult academia, and help they’ve got a grip on what to do with a baby. My personal favorite? “Fatherhood” by Paul Reiser.

Now if I were to write a how-to baby book, or more likely, a how-to baby blog, I wouldn’t pull from any of these books. After all, the methods they practice I cannot vouch for, as we’re still a week away from actually utilizing them. I’ve never seen some of these suggestions in visual action – so why would I just pass onto you, the weekend reader, that they work? After all, every author has a different opinion on how to get a baby to sleep, how to feed a baby, how much sunlight they can take, and whether or not Barney the Dinosaur is a messenger from the Anti-Christ (actually, I can vouch for that one – it’s most definitely true.)

So below is YABABY – YAB’s How-To Tips on Baby-Parenting, compiled only by what we’ve seen in movies.

Under no circumstances should you let anyone put Baby in a corner. Two other men are not an ideal substitute for one mom, unless the third man is Steve Gutenberg. If Baby has a penchant for crying, he may grow up to be a Greaser. Babies are worth one million dollars. If a 14th century Carpathian takes an interest in your Baby at the park, be wary. Baby-sitting is an adventure, but if this adventure culminates in death, you as a parent may be the last to know.

Babies are not what they seem sometimes. In fact, they are sometimes men – anchormen. Strange British men from the 60’s may insist on inform your baby what is and is not their “bag.” Babies are capable of hitting 88 miles per hour, but may force a diaper change. If your Baby’s future is baseball, expect Gods to reach down and turn his right arm into a thunderbolt. Babies (and a savvy singing attorney) can acquit you of murder. Oh, and your Baby might actually be a leopard.

Don’t let Baby go to the circus – she’ll get drunk with older elephants. If Martin Short is a close friend of yours, I would check to see if your mother is simultaneously pregnant. It can happen. If you make Baby laugh, that laugh could produce a new colony of fairies. Not all Babies have the gift of song – some just know how to dance. If dad builds extravagant scientific contraptions in the attic, please don’t let Baby near them. Men cannot birth children, unless they are also a United States Governor.

If you have a dog, collie or otherwise, they’ll have to take a backseat to Baby. If your Baby looks like a Wayans brother – someone is trying to rob you. If your Baby talks at an early age, pray to God that she doesn’t end up sounding like Roseanne Barr. Your Baby may be an excellent diversion, you know, if you and your spouse happen to be ex-spies in the Big Easy.

Oh, and one other thing? Your Baby is NOT a Genius.

No such thing exists.

DE-CAF! DE-CAF!

With the Super Bowl weekend fast approaching, YAB readers can no doubt expect the third annual Commies come Monday. It’s our little way of recognizing the great achievement in Spuer Bowl commercialing, without actually having to present anything of value to those lucky winners down on Madison Avenue. As you can see from the past two years (here and here), we’ll probably easily be swayed once again by stupid beer humor. Eh, whatever works.

It is pretty rare (unless by the expressed written consent of the National Football League), however, that Super Bowl commercials features pro football players. They can pitch anything to you all season long, but once the Big Game hits, we don’t need their help. Peyton Manning is a smart man, and he knows this. Besides, since he actually doesn’t have to buy a ticket to this Super Bowl, he’d be too busy to shill any wares. And being a smart man with a family to feed, Manning did the only thing a smart man could do in his situation.

He sold his soul to the marketing majors.

Personally, I think it would have been really fun to have Peyton in some of my marketing classes. He’d call audibles during group presentations, just to keep the professor guessing. He’d study his textbook so thoroughly that he has a contingency answer for anything Summarizing Chris (not me) can through his way. And my favorite, he’ll sit in the back of the room chanting “CUT THAT MEAT” for no reason whatsoever.

So Peyton Manning did what he had to – and appeared in 8, yes EIGHT different advertising campaigns over the course of this NFL season (there may be more, but thanks to his laser-rocket arm, we kind of lost count. Sorry.) Below, as a pre-cursors to the Commies, we rank his work in a ceremony held earlier this week.

(in ascending order, for purposes of “awesome mounting tension”)

8. GATORADE – In the beginning, there was a football. It sat placidly on a football field and then it began to rain. And then for no reason whatsoever, it bore a Peyton Manning, who broke out of his NFL-licensed womb in a weirder way than the Matrix, and then somehow produces a Gatorade Rain for some icy refreshment. What? I don’t know what other purpose it served, other than Archie Manning’s wife insisting on a paternity test.

7. REEBOK – When did Peyton Manning know he was going to make it in pro football (filmed): “When people stopped calling me Archie's boy and started calling me Peyton.” When did Peyton Manning know he was going to make it in pro football (actual): When I beat Eli for the 103rd straight time in Super Tecmo Bowl. Even in a video game, my kid brother gets all deer-in-the-headlights.”

6. NFL Shop – Ah, the Manning family, doing everything as if you needed a huddle. Doesn’t this seem a little counter-intuitive? This is PEYTON MANNING. PEYTON MANNING HATES TO HUDDLE. Everything is hurry-up offense, audible at the line, I’m throwing a comeback to Reggie Wayne. The huddle? Really? (Although Eli Manning fumbling the eggs is (classic, typical.)

5. TWEETER – What I like about this commercial, despite being late to the game, is the tone and seriousness it takes in order to commit to comedy. It’s quick, and it’s funny. As an informercial-public need type commercial, it allows Chris from Tweeter to do the talking. In addition, the tvs in the background only show brilliantly-colored weather scenes. They actually have this channel in HD – Dave watches it 24/7.

4. SportsCenter – Would have loved to put this even higher, except SportsCenter produces the funniest commercials on TV (as a campaign), and I expect more in the future from them.

3. DIRECTV – Man, Peyton Manning wants you to watch football on television. This was the ad where Peyton steps out from under center to pimp the Sunday Ticket package, seamlessly returning to actual game footage where he smokes the Titans for a 20-yd score. It’s got a good joke (Gotta run – actually I think I’ll pass), and it’s far less scary than the Bill Cowher one. When the Chin comes for the camera, I hide behind the couch.

2. SPRINT – Ah, good ole’ Laser Rocket Arm.

1. MASTERCARD – Despite the fact he calls Wendy a man and the Bobby apparently having a better arm than Peyton Manning, the barista’s scream was all this classic really needed to propel the Priceless ad to Number 1.

Not Exactly Playing for the Thai

Hi. My name is ah Borat. I am master champion in the sportings of ice hockey. High Five!

Yeah, there’s no way I could keep that up for 600 words.

But we do have news from the wayward reporter’s homeland, the glorious nation of Kazakhstan. Prior to the Sacha Baron Cohen’s hilarious lampoon of just another impoverished former Soviet republic, we didn’t know much about Kazakhstan. (Maybe that’s why we stuck it in my kid’s ABC’s, so that she can teach me.) Shouldn’t we know more? It’s the 9th biggest country in the world! And with a concerted effort, maybe they can pass Argentina for 8th!

(I don’t know, maybe it’ll get hungry and eat Kyrgyzstan.)

However, prior to Borat, I was aware of the Kazakhstan. After all, their country loves the sport I love as well: ice hockey. They appeared in the ’98 Nagano Olympic Games, an Olympiad that would force me to go to Brescia’s and watch ice hockey live at four in the morning. And the upstart Kazakhs were a part of it!

Too bad they sucked.

Yes, Kazahstan went 0-3 in the medal round of that particular tourney, bested by Russia, Finland, and the Czech Republic. The good news is that they managed six goals against Domink Hasek and his Group B counterparts. The bad news is that they allowed 25. Eesh. Not exactly what Borat would call a ‘great success.’

There’s an old sports adage that goes, “If you can’t beat ‘em, annihilate someone you can.” (or something like that.)

Breaking news out of qualifying for the 2008 Asian Winter Games:
Kazakhstan Ice Hockey is Now Glorious!!!”

Yes, even without Kazakh and Toronto star Nik Antropov in the lineup, the teal and gold routed Thailand on Monday in a hard-fought game for Asian Domination. The final score? Kazakhstan 52, Thailand 1.

Ouch.

Let’s review some stats, shall we? Yes, the Thai goalie did allow 52 goals, but keep in mind, he faced 97 shots. You see that’s a save percentage of 46%! If he could have had a little defensive help, in a normal game, that would have only been –let’s see, um, carry the 2- 14 goals. Ok, that’s not much better.

No player scored more that 7 goals for Kazakhstan, which means if nothing else, they’re well-balanced. But it also means every player pretty much got a hat trick. It is customary in hockey arenas to toss your hat on the rink as a sign of respect for a player who nets a trio of goals. So….what happens when his 16 teammates do the same? Do you buy more hats at the souvenir shop or just pretty much resort to other clothing. That could get cold in a hurry, no?

In a nice interview with Canadian Press, the American coach of Thailand explains that for his national team, he has about 40 guys in the WHOLE COUNTRY to pick from that have hockey experience. There’s a greater percentage of them that will make the team than pucks their goalie will save. Now I know I joked about playing international soccer in the past and all, but this time I’m serious.

I AM GOING TO PLAY THAI HOCKEY! Joe, you coming with?

Behold! He is Quaxxo!

One didn’t have to look too far to find out that 2006 Kentucky Derby winner and the number 1 patient at the UPenn School of Veterinary Medicine, Barbaro, was euthanized yesterday morning. For the horse racing and horse loving communities (though unlikely mutually exclusive), this is no doubt sad news. News that was breaking, front-page stuff on CNN, FoxNews, MSNBC, Drudge, SI, and yes, Deadspin for hours. It’s a good thing nothing of real importance was going on in the world.

Oh, wait.

You see, it’s not that I had so much a problem with Barbaro, but rather the crazed update reporting (only to be outdone by the “Brett Favre hasn’t made up his mind” updates) that perpetually ran on news tickers, as well as the slightly deranged stories of all the letters and notes that were being sent. Barbaro may have been wicked fast, but he sure wasn’t, um, LITERATE.

And while the mighty Barbaro may have crossed the Rainbow Bridge, wouldn’t you know that another of God’s creatures is trying to take his spot in the national spotlight?

Take Perky the Duck. Please.

In Tallahassee, FL, there’s a ring-neck duck that within the last week has: 1) been shot in the wing and presumably killed, 2) placed in the hunter’s fridge for two days, 3) perked up its head when the hunter’s wife opened the door, 4) had surgery to repair the wing, 5) had its heart stop during surgery, and 6) came back to life, to be adored by millions of Associated Press staff writers.

Ok, first off. The duck’s name is “Perky.” It’s not like he had this name prior to the story. Birds, contrary to popular belief, may not stick with a pre-ordained name just because it was written on their shell. This lame moniker was clearly the work of human intervention. I don’t know whether it was the hunter, his hungry wife, the vet, or some aspiring writer, but Perky? Really? Why not something with real regality?

Why not Quaxxo the Righetous?

So, Quaxxo the Righteous (see how much better that is) has been the fauna story du jour in Barbaro’s absence. And we’re not quite sure why. Sure, this is interesting water-cooler, off-beat, lighter-side journalism, but front page? Most Popular on CNN and Yahoo! News? God, are we bored at work or what?

You want bird news? YAB will give much more riveting bird news.

A family friend from back home (who, if you rearrange his first and last name you can spell “ALBINO SIBLING”) once had devised the perfect way to seek and destroy the lowest link of the Great Bird Chain: the sea gull. You see, sea gulls serve no purpose on God’s green Earth than to steal your Fritos and serve as comedic foils in Disney movies. Why do we need them? Nothing eats a sea gull in the food chain. They are far from delicious.

Dr. Sibling’s idea? To create a pellet gun to shoot these airborne beach rats to the ground. However, using pellets or any solid ammo can be traceable and there’s probably laws against it. So instead? Use ice pellets. That way, your projectile can pierce the wretched bird, sending him spiraling downward, and afterwards – the evidence simply melts away. Brilliant!

It’s a victimless crime!*

(God, I hope this cruelty to animals will incite “jz” to recount his uncle’s “modified humane raccoon trap” in the comments.)

*Assuming you’re not a sea gull.

Alphabetical Re-Order

A new child’s intelligence is one of the things that parents worry about the absolute most. Yes, there are some inherent genetics involved in your kid’s capacity to be smart (we’re pretty sure God didn’t bless Einstein and Mongo in quite the same way), but a lot of it has to do with the educational tools you provide him/her in his/her formidable years.

(Ok, screw this pronoun crap. From now on, we’re using she and her. You know, in case Clara can read right out of the womb, not to mention use the internet. Now that’s baby intelligence.)

So how does one give his newborn the opportunity to be smart? There are lots of educational games and videos you can use, and reading to her is not a bad idea, either. In fact, the Baby Einstein series not only aims to create learning activities for little ones; it’s an official Who’s Who of the great minds in history? Think you were the number one artist ever, Donatello? Sorry, the folks at B.E. have decided on Leonardo da Vinci. You may now return to being more famous for being the purple ninja turtle than your sculpting.

Over the weekend, I’ve decided on a cheap, easy, and effective way to ensure my kid’s on her way to intellectual greatness. You see, the building blocks of our entire system of language (despite what Mattias or Nordberg might think) are the letters of the alphabet. In order to know how to write, converse, form words or sentences, one must have a solid grasp on their A’s, their B’s, their C’s, and the other 23 underappreciated letters. And how do we impart the knowledge of these letters in our society?

By linking words to them.Surely, you’ve seen the picture books or inventive kid-art that further defines the learning curve for little ones, right? The template of “Letter is for Word that Commences with said Letter” is timeless and useful. A, as is often the case, is for Apple. And Z, most likely, is for Zebra. So not only has your toddler learned the alphabet, she may have picked up an eclectic list of produce, animals, and household items along the way.However, learning these 26 words aren’t going to get you into Harvard. That’s where my method comes in.As your child progresses their way through the alphabet, the words should get progressivelt harder and more complex. We are not eschewing the learning curve; we just feel that there’s no real challenge by the time she gets to X-Ray, Yarn, and Zebra. So make it a challenge to advance to the next level. Start easy, but by the end, make it an accomplishment. After all, with my method, if your kid is talking to Grandma and throws in some of this vocabulary, Grandma will probably be so impressed she agrees to pay for college. Bonus!

Chris Condon’s Baby Alphabet follows.
A is for Apple
B is for Ball
C is for Cow
D is for Door
E is for Elephant
F is for Farmer
G is for Gall Bladder
H is for Humidity
I is for Industry
J is for Juvenile
K is for Kazakhstan
L is for Lemonade
M is for Momentum
N is for Nectarine
O is for Ovechkin
P is for Photosynthesis
Q is for Quakkelaar
R is for Revolution
S is for Semiconductor
T is for Transubstantiation
U is for Urban Sprawl
V is for Vernacular
W is for Walker, Texas Ranger
X is for Xenodocheionology
Y is for Ytterbium
Z is for Zaibatsu

From the Scrap Heap to the Cover 2

For those of you who are avid sports fans and in a marriage or steady relationship, there’s a very easy way to find out if your spouse / true love are actually listening when you start spouting statistics and plays rather than talking about your feelings. After all, the story you’re about to tell him/her about that Duke game last night is easily 70% more interesting to you than it will be to them, and there’s a high likelihood you’ll get the nodding treatment until it’s over.

No, not electro-shock treatment. Freak.

Now my wife has passed this test with flying colors. If she’s not a sports fan, there’s not much chance she’s going to score well on this test. And while nowhere near as demanding as the Baltimore Colts fiancée test in the movie Diner, it’s a simple sports knowledge game. You name her the sport and the city, she tells you the team. Katie rules at this – she probably got 90 per cent in both baseball and football. (Plus she contests that I made up the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. But then again, with the ‘Rays we’re using the term baseball team very loosely, no?)

Fact is, Katie knows her sports. She watches sports with me, and she asks intuitive questions. And as the resident sports fan in the marriage, I have been able to give her a correct, succinct answer to all but one of her queries. ALL BUT ONE. This means that there is one answer that I cannot give my wife for an informed, insightful interrogation concerning the Wild World of Sports. We examine this question today.

“What’s with that stupid Fox robot?”

Excellent question, dear.

In 1994, Fox entered into the big-time by paying the NFL 1.58 billion dollars for the right to broadcast Aikman, Young, and the rest of the NFC exclusively. They brought a new attitude to broadcasting football, as well as some exciting changes. One such change would be displaying the score in the upper corner of the screen, as opposed to the massive box that so often occupied the bottom right. Oh, and they introduced this guy.

An accumulation of metal, bolts, and a killer scouting combine performace, the NFL Fox Robot has been around the NFL for nearly a decade. In training videos (like the one I linked and you ignored), he’s shown running over lesser football robots and come Thanksgiving, piling on innocent robotic turkeys. But these promos are nothing compared to what NFL Fox Robot is capable of.Now when we come back from commercial, you see NFL Fox Robot on the left-hand side of your screen. He’s jumping up and down, stretching his arms back and forth, and pretty much, indicating that’s he’s ready to play. No player in the NFL has the pre-game discipline that NFL Fox Robot has.

And yet, he never gets to play.

You would think that after ten years of scouting, one of the teams in the NFC would have handed the guy a contract, or at the least, an invite to training camp. Base on his level of flexibility and speed, I’d either making him a linebacker or a wide receiver.

Imagine that you are Jon Kitna, the quarterback of the Detroit Lions. You’re playing in Green Bay and it’s snowing out. Your offensive line has been suspect all year, yielding double-digit sacks a game. Since your general manager insists on drafting wide receivers every damn year, your protection is weak. However, you stand in the pocket, a savvy veteran, and know as long as a second wave of pass rush doesn’t come on a blitz, you should have ample time to hit Roy Williams on a go route. The Packers’ linebackers? Please.

Ok, now imagine that Green Bay has signed NFL Fox Robot to play strong side linebacker. If you’re Jon Kitna, you’ve got to be petrified. The Packers took a chance on this pigskin cyborg, and if he gets to you, consider yourself squished. All you can do is take a three-step drop and pray that NFL Fox Robot is not resistant to rust.

Too bad Green Bay’ll never get him.

Rumor has it Dan Snyder wants to pay him 32 mil of the next 5 years.

Explaining Danika One More Time

About three weeks ago, we decided to mock those who find YAB via obscure Googling by answering a few of their questions. A lot of good that did. More and more, we have become the authoritative corner of the web to “explain the movie Danika” to people. If you’re one of the few who saw this Marissa Tomei thriller, (straight-to-video-whee!), and somehow didn’t understand it, you probably ending up here at our blog.

We didn’t exactly become Danika Central on purpose, you see. Prior to our first edition of Meter Mail, we had never typed that word in the tens of thousand word existence of You’re a Blog. Not once. Never. After all, I’ve never seen Danika, and it’s not a word of everyday use, so how in the world did all arrows start pointing to us?I should have known.

Turns out in one of his comments, Mattias misspelled the first name of Indy car racer Danica Patrick. Surprise.

So thanks to Mattias, I have droves (ok, 2 a day) of web surfers leaving YAB empty-handed because I failed to accurately explain Danika to them. Well, as an attempt to turn this situation from tragedy to high comedy, I’m now going to explain what happens in the movie Danika for all of those who are speed reading their way to the answer. For those in the regular readership, just sit back and enjoy.

Explaining the Movie Danika
By Chris Condon

Ok, if you really want to understand what goes on in this flippin’ sweet movie, you’re going to have to pay attention to the clues. The writer must have loved the Sixth Sense with all the super-secret things that were slid into this movie. So I want you to pay really close attention to the details in this flick, okay?

First off, you need to look for the hidden animals. When Tomei is at the motel with her kid in the car, pay close attention to her rear view mirror. Very subtly, a panda bear will cross from left to right. Also, during the bank hold-up, in the upper left hand corner by the security camera, there perches a chimp. And finally, at the kid’s soccer game? The left midfielder for the blue team is actually a bottle-nosed dolphin. How insane, right? But the viewer is left to wonder whether these animals were real, or just part of Tomei’s delusions after the accident. The dolphin, of course, must be a fake – dolphins cannot play soccer. But the monkey and the bear are real, and very important parts of the puzzle.

Also, one needs to consider what happens to Tomei after the accident. My God! Every number that’s mentioned in this movie is divisible by 3! What are the odds of that. The main trinity references – like her number of children – are obvious. But look at the clock during the scene at the bank – it’s 12:36 – both numbers are divisible by 3. Oh, and if listen really closely during that scene, you’ll hear that the monkey speaks only in French.

You really want to know if the life you just saw was real or was imagined while Tomei was in a comatose state, don’t you? The homelessness? Imagined! The husband’s affair! Imagined! The call Danika gets from her boss? Fake! The detective character? Made-up!

But the panda bear and the monkey – very, VERY real. You must keep watching this movie until you see them both. And it is with them that the secret of this movie is revealed.

Hope this helps you, web traveler.

Some Assembly Required

I’m Bob Vila, but without the resemblance to a koala bear.

One of the many joys of having a child is the new-found sense of accomplishment you develop. You see, the last few weeks prior to your first child’s arrival will culminate in a mad dash to prepare your home for the little one. You do a remarkable amount of work to make sure everything looks nice and neat, but for reasons unknown. I don’t think your new son or daughter is going to notice if the kitchen is spotless. Heck, before yours she’s never even seen a kitchen before. And if you try and explain to her what it does, that’ll confuse her more. Every kitchen she’s seen consists of a tube with a direct line to Mommy.

Cleaning aside, there is preparation that will be useful and necessary, and therefore of the utmost importance. You see, babies don’t use the same furniture that we do. They fall between couch cushions. They feel like they’re in the middle of the desert should you place them on the center of your bed. There’s just nothing but fabric for miles and miles. Babies can’t use your chairs, either. It’s not that they don’t appreciate your chairs – they’re just not exactly designed for practical usage. Just like baby’s neck.

Between baby showers and mega-sprees at places like Babies R Us, new parents can accumulate quite the array of boxes for which they must find temporary storage for. You see, there’s a finite window of preparation that seems acceptable, and very often, when one receives these boxes (that therein lay baby-type furniture); it may be months before they’ll actually be put to good use. Build that crib too early, and house guests might think you’re a little crazy – a real Christmas in July scenario. Build that bouncy chair too late, and visitors wonder if you’re waiting until the kid actually asks for a bouncy chair to construct. And if you have a child that can actually form the sentence, “Mother I would like to utilize a contraption that will suspend me above the carpet, yet allow for minor vertical vacillations with minimal amplitude.” – get thee to MENSA.

And with pending baby at any real moment (scary, no?), this is where dad gets to shine. Mom’s been the MVP of this whole pregnancy deal to date, leading the team and doing the heavy lifting – home runs and RBIs. Dad has played a support role to date, maybe chipping in singles and stolen bases to the team effort. Well with boxes overcrowding the future room of the child, it’s time for the patriarch to line a double into the gap, no?

Let’s build some baby stuff.

My history in construction is limited. I think I built a bookshelf in Woodshop in 7th grade that while structurally sound, has never actually been used. I made a birdhouse once that was a great success, but it’s not exactly like birds are very picky when it comes to their real estate. I’m an Ikea aficionado, and I am the ultimate architect for all things Lego. But for the building of items that will directly affect the future safety of my own kid?

Yeah, no pressure.

My Fireside Blog

Thank you all for coming today. God bless you.

There comes a time in any man’s career where an opportunity presents itself, and one is required to act. For Zack Morris, it was because there was a free trip to Washington DC involved. For Bill Pullman, it was because he really wanted to give a socially awkward inspirational speech. For Harrison Ford, it was a chance to decide who gets to be on his aircraft. For me, well, I wish I could say it was from something deep inside of me. However, it’s something for more powerful in our American fabric that has put me at this crossroads. Life? Nay. Liberty? No sir? A Will Smith movie? Wrong again.

It’s peer pressure.

You see, so many of my fellow Americans have their eyes looking towards the future. This is a future that they feel they can have a great influence over where our great nation of the people is headed. In 2008, the highest government post in the land, the President of the United States, will once again be vacant, and somebody who bleeds civic duty must step forward and be a leader. (And promise not let any of that blood get on the carpets of the White House – do you know how much it would cost to get those things steam cleaned?)

Hilary Clinton has stepped up to this patriotic charge. So has Bill Richardson. Barack Obama, Christopher Dodd, Dennis Kucinich. Former vice-president hopeful John Edwards has found the ring, and his hat has landed close to Rudy Giuliani’s. Joe Biden’s in. So are Sam Brownback and John Cox. And while we’re at it, don’t forget Romney, Gilmore, McCain, Vilsack, Paul, and the candidate so nice they named him twice – Tommy Thompson. All of these men (and woman) could be President. And I know what you’re thinking.

Why NOT Chris Condon?

This is why I’ve called you here today. I want you, my constituency who believe that above all else, politics are meant to be funny, that I, Christopher Jefferson Condon, have already formed an exploratory committee. This committee’s prime goal, like those committees of my colleagues, is to evaluate my chances of success should I choose to run for the Presidency. My colleagues’ committees also contain many sub-committees, designed to further explore more defined intricacies of a potential campaign.

My committee thinks sub-committees are weak.

That’s why we’ve created super-committees, and for the following two reasons. First, a super-committee has more resources to cover more ground than a wuss sub-committee. And by resources, we surely mean “creative minds that are good at making things up.” For example, what if Chris Matthews is to ask me about my poor opinion showings with Iowa cattle farmers? My super-committee lets me know that my campaign has a plan to sell all the cows in Iowa to Japan for Sony Playstation 3’s, which will force the cattle farmers in Iowa to get new jobs. Most of them will become car manufacturing plant workers. And everyone knows that my public opinion with autoworkers is way better than with Iowan cattle farmers. Problem solved. (And everybody gets a PS3!)

Oh, what was my second reason? Super sounds way cooler than Sub.

Anyways, you’ll notice that I did say I “have already formed” my committee, not I am “planning to form” one. Yes, my friends, my work has already been done. And despite all their hard work, we have come to a conclusion of exploratory measures.I, Chris Condon, will not be running for President in 2008.

Despite everything that I could bring to the White House and Katie’s desire to be First Lady, it’s just not going to happen in two years. Other than Iowa cattle farmers, I have few enemies (most of them are Canadian, and can’t vote here.) I have a good track record of recycling and conserving water, and at the same time, support big business. And yet, I don’t sit on fences – I hurdle them. But it’s a good thing that I formed this exploratory committee, before I devote my life to becoming the Commander-in-Chief.

Turns out my Committee says I’m too young.

By about 8 years.

They found it on Wikipedia. What a drag. Oh well, I guess that gives me another two terms to mock our allies and wax comedic about filling my Cabinet with Muppets.

Too Many Cleats in the Kitchen

It was announced yesterday that Bill Parcells, head coach of the Dallas Cowboys and the Number 1 Candidate to wear a Bro, will be retiring from football and leaving the NFC East for good. Eagle Nation is okay with this, as out of the three rival head coaches, Parcells was the only one that actually worried us. (As a side point, we thank the management of the New York Giants, who have graciously returned Tom Coughlin to screw up the G-men for another year. Awesome.)

We can’t blame Parcells for making this decision. He is 65 after all, and while highly unlikely, it would be nice that when we reach that age we can stop working (what Social Security?) The position of “NFL Head Coach” is indeed a demanding one, and it’s becoming a young man’s game. Pittsburgh just hired a 34 year-old! Oakland? Their new guy is 32! I’m apparently a better fit to “make it in pro football” then Old Manboobs. Bill Simmons wrote a stellar article a few weeks back about how so few coaches over 55 succeed this day and age. Considering Belichick just lost to Peyton Manning and is 54, Simmons may be onto something.

And yet, Washington stands behind their main man Joe Jackson Gibbs. He’s a year older than Parcells, and continues to lead the burgundy and gold despite a tough season and a completely insane boss. How does Gibbs do it? Where does he find the energy? Isn’t Matlock on at the same time he’s supposed to watch game film? Are team dinners at early bird special times? I must know!

Oh.

It seems that the way that the ever-fit Gibbs manages such a tough job at his age is by hiring coaches. Billions and billions of coaches.

Ok, he’s got 19. But that’s four more than Andy Reid’s staff, three more than the Colts, and a staggering 8 more than the newly-departed Parcells team. The reason we thought to check this out? Mattias insisting that they should find a place on the staff for former ‘Skin Russ Grimm, who may want to look elsewhere after being passed over in Steeltown. Sure Russ, we’ve got room for you. But on road trips you’ll have to sit on Jerry Gray’s lap. Cool?

Upon a further analysis of Team Gibbs, we wonder if there’s some overlap of duties. For those of you who have never coached professional football, the offensive coaching team normally consists of the following:

• Offensive Coordinator
• O-Line Coach
• Quarterbacks Coach
• Receivers Coach
• Running Backs Coach
• Tight Ends Coach

That’s cool, a coach for every position on the O-side of the ball. It probably makes training camp go a lot more smoothly. Gibbs, like every other team, has these positions filled. Don Breaux is the offensive coordinator of the Washington Redskins.

But what about Al Saunders, the guy Dan Snyder paid more money to be the Offensive Coordinator than most teams pay their head coaches??

Oh, Saunders – and his 700 page playbook – are still in Washington, but he’s not merely the offensive coordinator – that’s Breaux’s job. Saunders is officially “Associate Head Coach – Offense.” Apparently, he is a sort of head coach, probably because of Gibbs’ age. He’s an assistant head coach, you could say. OH WAIT. No, he’s not – because the Redskins actually have two people with the title Assistant Head Coach – Gregg Williams and Joe Bugel. Bugel is the Assistant HC for the Offense, which must be different than the Associate HC for the Offense – that’s Saunders. And neither of them need to coordinate the offense – that’s Breaux’s job. Sound good?

If so, let’s move on. Gibbs also has found a job for Jack Burns as an Offensive Assistant. We assume he does the Offensive Coordinating the Breaux doesn’t get to, and the Assisting Head Coaching that Bugel overlooks. We’re actually surprised that there’s no Offensive Associate, to help back up Saunders, who must be very tired from carrying that heavy, heavy playbook around. Let’s throw in Joe’s kid Coy as the Offense’s Quality Control Coach for good measure, and THAT’s a coaching staff.

So Russ Grimm, while there aren’t any Associate or Assistant coaching positions available, how would you like to be the Vice-Assistant Coach for Offensive Advisement? (We promise to hire two other Visiting Coachship positions to support you.)

Letters from Iwo Virginia

Ron Burgundy: Boy, that escalated quickly... I mean, that really got out of hand fast.
Champ Kind: It jumped up a notch.
Ron Burgundy: It did, didn't it?

Much like the Anchorman sayeth, my predictions this morning for the 79th Annual Academy Awards didn’t exactly follow my recent rise to near-perfection. Since our annual tabulator Mike Nordberg hasn’t checked into the office yet today, our summations are reporting accurate predictions in only 31 of 40 slots, five off last year’s pace, and the worst we’ve done since, well, ever. (That’s only four years, let’s not make it out to more than it is.) And while we can’t be pleased with such an effort – after all, we have seen 16 of the 36 flicks with a nomination – we’re happy to see certain movies get their due despite our best efforts.

Rather than reading boring re-caps on CNN or E! or some other website with unnecessary punctuation, here’s what you need to take out of this morning’s announcements.

Dreamgirls got smoked.

This is what happens when we have an over-saturated media. I remember reading reports prior to LAST year’s Oscars that Dreamgirls was the runaway favorite. I remember it being praised this past fall even before anyone had seen the final cut. And here we are on el Dia de Los Nominaciones, and they’re on the outside looking in. No Picture. No Director. No Screenplay. One thing is clear. Hollywood is no place for Condons.

(Just kidding – my Uncle Bill won a screenplay Oscar for Gods and Monsters. And he makes some wicked good pancakes.)

Here’s how it happened. Dreamgirls is a good movie, and many people liked it. But it’s not a great movie, and we nominate great movies for Best Picture. The way the noms work is that voters rank their five favorite movies in a category. The Academy then looks at first-place votes, and if any movie had enough of ‘em, they’re in. Then they look at second-place votes, and if they have enough, they’re in, too. This will normally get you 5 nominees. Confusing? Let’s say you’re getting married, and for some reason (maybe you’re insane, I don’t know), you’ve decided to let everyone in the bridal party help choose the menu for the rehearsal dinner. You ask everyone to look at the list of possible entrees (you’re rockin’ the family-style), and the Top 5 choices will make the menu. Now everyone has a different favorite (even Nordberg, who insists on lobster tail – dude we’re at an Italian joint), and those votes are made. But for everyone’s fifth choice, it’s Chicken Parm across the board. Everyone likes Chicken Parm, but nobody loves it. Therefore, you’re stuck eating Lobster, Steak, Shrimp Scampi, Chicken Marsala, and some veggie pasta crap dish (I’d blame a bridesmaid), but no one gets Chicken Parm.

So that’s 3 of my 9 errors right there. I believed too much in Chicken Parm.

Also, there’s the screenplays. Screenplays are written by writers. And writers were probably English majors. And English majors don’t get me. They look at me weird when I walk by Tucker Hall, and say things like, “Stranger than Fiction was a clever, tight, entertaining script ABOUT writing a book – how the hell don’t you guys think that’s awesome?” And Volver wasn’t apparently the script that La Catrina, my Spanish 3 learning videos were. Oh, and English majors don’t like Chicken Parm, either. Also, I put Borat in the wrong place. His mind should be honored for what he writes, not how he acts. My bad. High five?

All in all, it was a good day for Oscar. Hooray for Letters from Iwo Jima, for Mark Wahlberg and Djimon Hounsou, for sparing us from a Prince performance, and for finally giving us some material for another Oscar video.

What? Who said that?

Cond-nominations 2007

Ah, the night before Oscar nominations.

For those who don't realize it, the Academy is very precise about how they will go about announcing the best achievements in motion pictures. At 8:38 and 30 seconds on Tuesday morning, Salma Hayek will step to the podium with MPAA President Sid Ganis, most likely to camera flashes and in front of a tasteful backdrop of flat screens. Everything will fall into place as nominees in 10 of the 24 Oscar categories are verbally revealed, right in the middle of the peak hour for the network TV morning shows. Which means what?

Yeah, it's early in L.A.

In reality, Salma just finished wolfing down a Luna bar, Ganis has been pushing to show the nominations from the waist up so that he doesn't have to change out of his fuzzy pajama pants, and throughout the valley, the people about to be nominated are either in bed or at Crackdawn Yoga class. But you, the viewer, don't notice a thing. That's the magic of Hollywood.

Let's hope some magic is with my predictions. (Last year's 90% is going to be impossible to beat.)

Best Picture
Babel
The Departed
Dreamgirls
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen

On Saturday, I saw Letters from Iwo Jima, and found it to be an excellent, excellent war movie. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't displace any of the popular choices. It's pretty tough to bank on a movie entirely in Japanese with the Academy.

Best Actor
Sacha Baron Cohen, Borat
Leonardo DiCaprio, The Departed
Will Smith, The Pursuit of Happyness
Peter O'Toole, Venus
Forest Whitaker, The Last King of Scotland

A wise man once told me that McAdams loves Gosling, so why don't my picks love him for his role in Half-Nelson. To be honest, I don't really know. Cohen is a complete wildcard that Academy may despise, and DiCaprio may cannibalize his vote with another strong performance in Blood Diamond, and the fact that his role in The Departed may give his supporting actor votes, too. Man, that's a lot of strikes against Leo. Nonetheless...

Best Actress
Penelope Cruz, Volver
Judi Dench, Notes on a Scandal
Helen Mirren, The Queen
Meryl Streep, The Devil Wears Prada
Kate Winslet, Little Children

These are my locks. They are cold. They are made of stone. These are my stone cold locks. (Unless Maggie Gyllenhaal screws this up.)

Best Supporting Actor
Jackie Earle Haley, Little Children
Djimon Hounsou, Blood Diamond
Eddie Murphy, Dreamgirls
Jack Nicholson, The Departed
Mark Wahlberg, The Departed

Who's ready for fireworks? Alan Arkin would follow my "Old Actor Who Deserves His Due and Looks Like One of My Friend's Dads" rule, except, well, he doesn't look like any dad I know. (Maybe Joe, though.) Also, I'm leaving out Brad Pitt and Michael Sheen. I could totally screw this one up.

Best Supporting Actress
Cate Blanchett, Notes on a Scandal
Emily Blunt, The Devil Wears Prada
Abigail Breslin, Little Miss Sunshine
Rinko Kakuchi, Babel
Jennifer Hudson, Dreamgirls

I left out some woman from Babel named Barraza who would have fit my "Mouthful of an Actress Rule" (see Okonedo, Aghdashloo, Weisz?), but this Rinko Kakuchi keeps the Rule alive.

Best Director
Bill Condon, Dreamgirls
Clint Eastwood, Letters from Iwo Jima
Stephen Frears, The Queen
Alejandro Inarritu, Babel
Martin Scorsese, The Departed

This is Scorsese's year, a Condon I had to vote for, the guy who did High Fidelity, one of Mattias' people (besting Cuaron, del Toro, and Almodovar), and finally Clint Eastwood, who did two movies this year. on the other hand, it took two people to do Little Miss Sunshine.

Best Adapted Screenplay
Children of Men
The Departed
Little Children
Notes on a Scandal
Thank You for Smoking

Total number of those I saw? 1. Whole lot of confidence on that one.

Best Original Screenplay
Babel
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen
Stranger than Fiction
Volver

We'll see you at 5:38, your time, Oscar.